Adam
by sku7314977
Summary: Hannibal is taken by surprise when he finds a man wondering the streets late at night naked and covered in blood. He decides to take the stranger home. Contains: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Amnesia, Murder Husbands, Nudity, Flirting, Kissing, Bathing/Washing, Descriptions of Violence, HanniGram, Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
1. Adam

Authors Notes: It came to mind, I wrote it. For now its a one shot. I might add more if the demand is there for it.

Enjoy.

I own nothing.

Not Beta Read

OoOoO

Chapter 01

Hannibal, though never cruel to the homeless and needy who lined the streets of lesser areas, was never one to go out of his way to assist those who were found wanting on corners or in shelters of cardboard lined with newsprint, the socialite much preferring to keep to the cleaner streets of Baltimore's elite unless otherwise hunting.

But then again he'd never seen a man strolling with causality on the road side after midnight dressed in nothing but moon light and blood.

The closer his Bentley drew the more his skin appeared as though it had been carved from alabaster marble streaked with crimson. He walked with slow meaningful steps despite his nudity and the bare nature of his feet over, the road side gravel no doubt digging into his skin and me sauntered on into the night toward his unseen destination.

He either didn't notice or didn't care that a car had passed him, the nudist having no interest in the prospect of hitchhiking as he continued forward soaked from head to toe with rust colored rubies. It was possibly the most interesting thing Hannibal had seen all week, enough so to have the Bentley slow to a stop on the curb side and the killer exit his car to greet the beautiful man.

"Good evening," Hannibal greeted, remaining still as the anomaly approached. It was like watching the descent of an angel of death. To have called him beautiful would have done little more than insult to the being that approached him in slow steady strides. He donned moonlight and blood like a veil of sheer silk to cover his body of tight whipcord muscle and too prominent ribs, his skin smooth and unblemished save for the twist of a scar on his shoulder and trail of dark hair the led from navel to plentiful cock.

"Excuse me," His steps didn't falter as he passed Hannibal, barely casting a look with eyes the shade of storm ocean skies.

He would not be so easily deterred from the siren who called to him with skin and mystery, "You seem lost." He offered, turning to watch the sway of rounded hips and well-formed butt.

"No I don't," Was returned, the man continuing without hesitation as he walked further down the street side, "I seem insane, as do you for stopping to ask a naked man covered in blood if he's lost."

"Perhaps I only wish to be helpful, god forbid we be friendly." The barest pull of a smile tugged thin lips and he followed, the sound of gravel moving underfoot in greeting of the strangers new company.

His angel scoffed, keeping pace despite the raw flesh visible on his abused feet. "I don't find you that interesting."

"You will." The promise finally brought his steps to a halt, Hannibal catching up to stand by the interesting man as he at last turned to face Hannibal with eyes that refused to rise higher than the Windsor knot of his paisley tie. "You're a psychopath," he said with full lips Hannibal very much wished to kiss and render the skin on, feel the warmth of flesh against his teeth and blood across his tongue as he man the man before him moan his name, "I have no reason to trust you not to kill me."

"A psychopath?" This man was both beautiful and intelligent. It made him want to preen like a peacock its mate, "what makes you so sure?"

He didn't roll his eyes but the look offered was enough to let Hannibal know that such things were being implied. "It's the middle of the night," He stated the obvious, "I'm walking the highway naked and covered in blood. Only two kinds of people pursue a man like that. Either you're a cop or a killer and a cop wouldn't be flirting with me." Hannibal felt his heart jump as so little became so much, "You're interested. You're a psychopath."

"You are wondering the streets alone and covered in blood. Perhaps I'm a concerned citizen." He countered, enjoying the way moonlight lit up the wisps of curls like a halo around him. He would have preferred him without the scruff of beard over a face that would look much younger without it, but such things were easily fixed.

He barked a laugh, hallow and mocking. "No, you're hunting. But you don't see me as pray." Hannibal did not deny him, though no affirmation was offered either, only the silent tilt in curiousness for the man to continue. He sighed, but did as silently bidden, "You're suit, your car, your micro expressions. The gloves to cover finger prints, the silent way you walk on feet and hold yourself as though to exude power. You're a monster pretending to be human and hiding behind a suit fashioned of smiles and lies and I can see it as clearly as I see the stars skirting behind the clouds in their own disguise."

He wanted to applaud him, kiss him and render the flesh of his flawless body to make him for his own so that no other would ever confuse to whom this clever man belonged.

"You see all this with one look?" He pressed when he longed to hold.

"Yes." His eyes were skirting from the tailored vest and jacket of his three piece suit to the cashmere scarf that hung loose around his neck and heavy wool coat that protected him against the late autumn air.

"What a beautiful gift." He whispered to earn a look of deep confusion from the man before him, as though such a thing should be seen as anything but. He would help him to understand the beauty of what he had. "May I ask as to why are you wondering the streets bloody and without clothes?"

Blue grey eyes made it as far as his mouth before stopping, focusing on his lips with an air of loss about him. It answered more questions for Hannibal than the boy need know. "I don't remember."

"Do you remember your name?" He pressed, slipping the heavy wool coat from his shoulders to drape around the quieting man now that more truths were coming to light.

He watched the movement like a stray, untrusting of the warmth he was being wrapped in. He hadn't even realized he was cold until the touch of burning warmth was pressed against his skin. "No." He answered at last, eyes dropping as he searched inside himself for something to come up short, "I woke up this way." He was an enigma, one Hannibal desperately wished to uncover and reveal.

"Naked and covered in blood?" He coaxed, not yet leading the man back to his car. The care of a stray animal was tricky business, an establishment of trust needed before they would follow their future keeper home.

"Naked." He amended, shuffling with some discomfort at the memory.

He felt his stomach do a flip, the rise of excitement twisting his gut as something else interesting began reveal before him in this boy, "And the blood?" Storm wracked oceans met blood stained earth and a thrill gripped him as he saw the crouching beast of a killer within. "Who did you kill?" he whispered.

"Are their names for swine?" He asked and Hannibal knew. If it was said that God created a match for everyone than this man had been specially crafted for him, standing more beautiful than the Mona Lisa he was a wonderment onto himself, a being meant to be revered.

"No," grey eyes slid away and he knew as much as Hannibal that he had found his match. "Come, you must be hungry. Allow me to cook for you." A gentle hand caressed his shoulder, the slow encouragement of trust.

A skeptical look was given to his hand in a side glance before those eyes returned to his throat. "You have nowhere else to go. Allow me to give you some place to stay while you learn who you are." A breath of wind carrying with it the autumn chill seemed to be the last encouragement needed, the man turning to begin the walk back to the car with Hannibal's hand set firmly to the small of his back in guidance.

OoOoO

"Do you have people over who aren't psychopaths?" The nudist asked as he was led through the extravagant Baltimore home and into one of the guest bathrooms on the second floor. Though he had nothing to memory to compare the lavish room against he still knew it was impressive. Marble of blue streaked with silver made up the counter and floor, a bath large enough to easily accommodate two full grown men taking the vast majority the room.

"Yes," Hannibal answered with a hint of amusement, glancing back over his shoulder as he ran a bath for the younger male, "I'm quite sociable. I had the administrator of the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane over for dinner just last night." Adjusting the water to something just shy of scalding he motioned for his new house guest to climb into the tub.

Stepping forward he shed the coat like a chrysalis to pool at his feet, allowing Hannibal to witness all that he was before climbing into a bath tinted green with salts and scented of aloe and cedar. "And they haven't arrested you? They must be blind." His words were caught between a hiss and groan, the heat too much and exactly what he needed. Burning his flesh as it relaxed muscles wound tight from too many hours walking in the cold and whatever else he might have been doing before.

Rolling his sleeves Hannibal took a seat on the wide side of the tub, soaping a cloth to begin scrubbing blood stained skin clean with a firm hand. The man leaned into him, rolling his shoulders to loosen knots as his flesh was seen to. "They see the world of smoke and mirrors that I have created for them," he soaked the cloth in fresh bath water, watching a cloud of rust bleed into the pale green liquid of the tub. "You are the first to see through me."

"It takes one to know one I guess." He ducked his head as a hand reached round to scrub his chest, lifting away evidence to be rinsed away without a trace.

Taking the angels beautiful face into his hands he turned him so their eyes might meet, the elusive things seeking out his mouth and ear in avoidance of the deep maroon that sought them. "Tell me how you killed them." It was almost a plea, a polite request that Hannibal needed fulfilled much as he needed air to breath and water to drink.

"I stabbed them." He said simply, explaining the arterial spray that had covered his front, the drops of crimson he was gently working from his face, "In the throat. He was coming toward me with gasoline and matches. I was lying in a shallow ditch. Found a piece of broken glass and when he got close pushed it through his throat." It would have been enough for self defense, but there was more. "He was still breathing when I started flaying the skin from his back, propping him up to kneel like an angle with wings of flesh stretched and held with brackets I fashioned from sticks." It had been crude, unfinished without the proper tools to display the man who had been left to burn. He'd needed fishing wire to create an angel, but didn't have any. "I tied his hands with strips of cloth from his shirt and supported his body with rocks." He blinked remembering the blaze as evil was punished. "I soaked him in the gasoline meant for me, left him to burn in the hell fire." He didn't scream, couldn't. Whether it was his death that had silenced him or the hole in his throat had made no difference. He had watched the inferno with a sense of serine justice and left when the smell became too much for his stomach.

"Beautiful," he leaned in to capture full lips with his own in a kiss between killers, the nameless man tensing in surprise as his mouth was parted with a coaxing tongue to plunge inside and map the depths within.

His angel moaned, closing his eyes to lean into the kiss and slip soaking arms around his shoulders, pulling him flush to the nameless man as tongues searched and teeth nipped. He slipped his fingers into curls made stiff by dried blood, his angel hissing to pull back as Hannibal found the source of his memory loss.

"You've suffered a blow to the head." Brow furrowed grey eyes focused on the water to once again search for things he could not yet find, a memory of 'how' and 'when' he would not know the answer to for some time. "I'd like to examine it when we're done to make sure it's clean."

Fingers searched blood gritted curls to gingerly touch the split mound of flesh on the back of his skull. It was tender, making him wince as he touched the matted hair there. "Sure." He grabbed the abandoned cloth focusing on removing the remaining blood that clung to his skin as broad hands began to loosen the same from his hair, softening curls to separate and examine the split.

"You're most likely suffering from retrograde amnesia." Hannibal explained, "Unless there is a psychological suppression aiding the trauma you should have your memories recovered in a few hours." He pulled the drain gathering one of his softer towels paired in a dark blue to match the room for the man to dry himself. "If you'll allow me a moment, I should have something you can wear."

Standing at nearly the same height as Hannibal, though his build was considerably leaner than his own, there would be little trouble in his angel sharing his wardrobe until he had time to take him shopping and to the tailors or his memories returned.

"I found a pair of pajamas that should fit you well enough." He smiled upon entering the bathroom to find the man examining himself in the mirror, towel left forgotten on the floor much as the coat had been.

He was staring down a stranger, trying desperately to read something within a set of eyes that were both his own and not. "I don't know this man," He said at last, speaking to Hannibal as he stared at himself. "I feel like a mosaic, like I have a hundred thousand people crawling around inside my head, each one making up a piece of me until they form my face and eyes and teeth." He touched the scruff of his jaw, thumb running along the bone in a slow draw. "You don't like my beard." He said without hesitation, as though Hannibal had announced as much earlier aloud and no within the confines of his mind. "You think it takes away from my appearance. You want me to shave it and in turn I see what you want, feel it as though those thoughts are my own and it makes me want to shave it. But I don't know if I want to shave it or if I only want to shave it because you want me to shave it." He let his hand fall away, furrowing his brow at the stranger who stared back at him. "I don't know if I like having have a beard or not."

"You have an empathy disorder." Hannibal observed, coming behind him to set the clothing on the counter as he looked over his shoulder to watch blue grey eyes that focused on only their own. "It could be exacerbating the memory loss." It could be used to influence him.

"I don't know myself and I can't remember who I am. I'm not going to remember if I keep losing myself to other people." He was frustrated, understandably so. The loss of one's self was a terrible fate, he only hoped that meant he could keep this stranger long enough to endear himself to him before his memories return.

He ran his hands from shoulder to elbow, feeling the smooth skin beneath his palm with thoughts to its dryness. Whoever this man had been in his previous life he had failed to care for himself. Hannibal would not allow such failure to continue while under his care. "Then perhaps you should build yourself something new until the time your memories resurface." He leaned closer, coming to whisper like a serpent in his ear, "pick a name for yourself and you will have taken the reins, rebuild yourself, your likes and opinions, and you will control the chaos."

"If you can't go back move forward," he summarized, as hands move to settle on the swell of his hips to feel too prominent bones.

"Yes," Was whispered with the brush of lips to stubble, a possessive hand curling around the angels waist to slid a palm across the plain of stomach. "What is your name?"

Several long moments passed as he stared into the mirror, losing himself in depths of blue as he searched his mind for a name that came without chaos. If he was lucky, he may even pick his own. A hand several shades lighter than the one pressed to his waist came to settle over his hosts and he leaned back into the solid form behind him. "Adam." He decided.

"Adam," it made him smile. The barest pull of lips against his angels skin. "Of course, if you cannot remember your beginning, return to the worlds. It's beautiful." It was perfect for his angel of death.

"It'll do." He conceded turning to meet lips with his own.

"You must be hungry Adam. Shall I prepare something light for you before bed?" He allowed the man to turn within his arms, facing him as he had in the tub to loop arms around his shoulders and met him in a kiss.

"I'd rather see your kill room."

TBC

OoOoO

Thank you for reading.

Your Favorites splash in the bathtub, your Reviews are burning people and roasting marshmallows over their corpses.


	2. Kill Room

Authors Note: Who asked for second helpings of Adam?

This story is supply on demand because it's not one of the outlines series I already have on the go.

So If you want more ask for it or it's not going to happen. You've been warned.

I don't own Hannibal.

Not. Beta. Read.

OoOoO

02

Dressed in satin pajamas that slid like cool water over his skin Adam followed Hannibal into the basement.

It was inspiring.

Meat hooks, cages, fridges, slabs, saws, stainless steel and enough medical equipment to make a hospital jealous created the kill room that was Hannibal's basement. It was beautiful in its complexity, drawing Adam in like a moth to the flame. "You've used everything in here." He said as he walked the cold floor in bandaged feet. The thick gauze protecting his soles though not his toes from the chill as he moved from one instrument of death to the next, falling into visions of blood and flesh and Hannibal.

He could tell with one sweeping look that Hannibal used his equipment regularly and cleaned it scrupulously. A forensic team would be hard pressed to find any amounts of DNA lingering on the doctor's equipment with the smell of bleach lingering in the air and gleam of spotless metal.

It reinforced his earlier suspicions, he was a doctor. His medical knowledge having already made itself known to Adam though the care of his feet and head, the provided evidence of scalpels and IV drips reaffirming this as he touched a hook over head to make it swing.

"Of course," Hannibal smiled, watching as his angel moved through his fortress of death with an air of wonderment. Touch lingering over hooks and knives he could already see Adam's mind turning over the methods for each tool and their practicality.

"And you eat them." It was said almost curiously as he ran his finger along a saws edge, looking into a sink with a garbage disposal switch at its side. "Are you looking forward to watching me cannibalize?" He asked without looking, eyes following a ceiling runner to the convenient floor drain and further still to the steel door of a walk in freezer.

Hannibal watched him explore, allowing him the freedom to touch and see with both hands and eyes as he absorbed the meaning behind each piece of equipment and saw the death of a sounder. "Does that upset you Adam?"

He opened the freezer, examining the standing form of a beautiful woman waiting to be made into art. "No."

"Do you believe that is your opinion or a reflection of my own?" He took the freezer door in hand to slide the steel mass shut, bringing the attention of blue grey eyes to settle on his lips.

"You're a predator," he answered simply, "as a predator you feed on the flesh of lesser beings. Why would I take offense? Your offer to share your kill with me places me higher on the food chain, you see me as an equal." He was preening for Adam like a peacock dancing for its mate.

Adam wanted to join in that dance, "You should feed me doctor," he said leaning closer to bringing the strong form of a body firmer than it appeared against his own to let the ghost of lips dance across the cannibals, "and then you should tell me how you did it."

He pushed his back against the freezer and kissed him hard enough to bruise, gripping the younger man by the globes of his ass to lift him up and encourage lithe legs to encompass his tapered waist, crushing Adam between body and door.

They were killers, alphas and predators. Monsters hiding in plain sight among the sheep they hunted. Disguised in their prey to blend into the crowd with fake smiles of needle point teeth to fool the masses and lure their next victim to their death.

Adam moaned, arching as a mouth took to his throat to mark the flesh there in a chain of amethyst and onyx. He had a skin hunger, Adam realized as he carded slender fingers through hair the color of silver streaked wheat, he wanted to feel skin against his own in a nearly desperate way. "You're lonely aren't you?" He whispered, breath catching as he felt the swell of a cock grind against his ass.

"I was," he corrected, stealing his breath with another kiss to swallow moans as their grinding hips dragged a cry from him. "But I do not believe I will be lonely for much longer Adam. Do you?"

"I don't know if I'm lonely. Only that I'm alone, was alone." A twisted smile of shadow and death drew his lips and he licked his way into Hannibal's mouth. "I'm not alone anymore."

He would have taken him there against the steel door of the freezer despite its crass carnality if not for the absence of lubricant. He would not hurt this creature in their love making, in their joining of one flesh and one mind. "Shall we take this to the bedroom?"

"Aren't you the proper monster?" He teased, rubbing himself against the erection that pressed into him. "There's a bed here. I want you to fuck me on that one." He wasn't done looking at the room.

Adam was temptation incarnate, the embodiment of the serpent who had tempted Eve with the Apple of Eden. He followed the line of his gaze to a dissection table, a large stainless steel slab on wheels with six point restraints for the livestock he brought home. It made his cock jump to see the salacious look in stormy eyes.

"Don't be rude, Adam." He warned pulling the body tighter to his own as he walked them to the pointed table. "That's how I fill my fridges."

"With the rude?" he barked a laugh, catching the shell of his ear between teeth to pinch. This man he'd wrapped himself around was power and control in all the darkest ways that made his blood a living thing within his veins. He wanted to see that power render flesh and ruin that consuming control with the contours of his body beneath broad blood stained hands. "You'll never go hungry."

The table was cold against his ass as Hannibal sat him on it, the feel of steel like ice to his skin through the fabric of borrowed satin. He arched his neck revealing throat as fingers fell down the front of his shirt to open buttons and present freshly cleaned flesh begging to be ruined. "Nor will you."

His smile was the pull of deep satisfaction edged with blood and discord. "I like that thought." Adam said pushing away layers of brushed wool and fine silk. It was another piece of the killers camouflage he realized, an armor he wore atop his finely crafted person suit to conceal the dense muscle and long quick limbs used for relinquishing life.

This was a clever monster he was about to join himself with was a ruler of chaos, standing head and shoulders above the rest of their kind to remain unequaled by his peers. Fingers made calloused by a life forgotten followed the hard swell of a firm shoulder to the powerful bicep he gripped to pull the slightly larger man onto the table with him.

He complied to the silent demand, climbing onto the narrow surface to crawl over his Adam, "You're beautiful," thin lips whispered as stormy eyes unfocused to recreate the murder of men and woman strapped where they lay. Screaming their pleas until tongues were cut free and organs were harvested from their living flesh.

It made him shiver. "Beautiful?" Adam propped himself on elbows to look down the length of his too skinny body through unkept curls of drying chocolate. "I don't see beauty," he smirked, "I see a stray." He touched a too prominent rib and wondered why it was he allowed himself to become so thin. "Starved and lost." His hand was taken by another, brought to a face older than his own though he wouldn't know by how many years until he remembered.

"You are not lost anymore Adam. You are creating a new life for yourself while you await the return of your old one, a vacation from your past." Lips spoke into the flesh of his palm and down his wrist. "But if you are a stray than I am your keeper. If you are hungry than I shall feed you," A tongue darted out to taste his pulse point and make storms dilate, "If you are cold then I will clothe you, warm you." He covered Adan's slighter body with his own, making their flesh seamlessly on the table.

Ashen hair tickled his skin as the cannibal nuzzled his palm. "I will protect you if you cannot protect yourself."

"I don't need protection," It was said with all the grace of a killer, an unknown equal, "but I will ward off the loneliness that haunts you." Their lips met in chaste presses as their bodies entertained, the flesh of their swelling erections pressing together to draw moans from each with grinding hips.

"I would like to see you hunt Adam." He requested, pulling back to kiss his way down the younger man's chest. He wanted to witness his glory as Adam delivered brutality upon those undeserving of life.

"You show me yours I'll show you mine." He answered between hitching breaths as a nipple was captured to suck and nip. "Quid pro quo." He bit his lip when that mouth continued south, biting a path over the curve of his hip to kiss his at the base of his cock.

It had his fingers knotting in hair. "A most agreeable suggestion," he murmured against the base of his stomach as hands parted legs to drape over broad shoulders and hands parted the mounds of his ass. Adam fought not to twist within his new lovers grasp when a tongue pressed against his hole, the slick muscle pushing into him.

"Hannibal," His angel moaned in a plea as he teased the entrance of his body. It made him wonder of the boy's life before. The lovers he may have shared himself with and what, if any, of them had been male.

It was a fruitless thought as a gift was already set before him. Whoever this man had been before was meaningless. He was Adam now and he was as new to the world as a babe, born into the night naked and bloody as beings were in their beginning.

For Adam Hannibal would be his first.

It fueled his hunger with a fire to possess as he thought of such a gift bestowed unto him. It would be no small token to take this from his Adam and it was one he wished to have cherished between them.

Licking his lips he turned smoldering eyes to the flushed face panting man beneath him, a heat of passion spreading across his cheeks and down his chest. It was almost as beautiful as the moonlight and blood. "How much do you remember of your old self Adam?" He leaned forward folding him in half as he opened a drawer on the table side to produce a jaw of medical lubricant.

"Nothing," He shifted against the position, his hips unused to the fold he was being held in as fingers were slicked and touched to his opening, "I don't know if I've done this before." He answered with a sense of knowing. The empathy Hannibal had showing itself with an uncanny understanding, "But whether I have or haven't this is a first for Adam." He knew the ins and outs of sex enough to suggest he'd partaken of it, but that was it. How much? How often? They fell under the same unknowns as the rest of his life. For all he knew he was a five star stripper from Las Vegas.

He knew Hannibal would be aiming for the prostate and that with his medical knowledge he would bring Adam to his end with a thrashing scream if he so desired. The man would be as precise and meticulous with helping Adam to his edge and pushing him over as he was with the methodical nature of his killings.

"You will give this to me?" It would mean so much more if Adam saw the gift in the same light as Hannibal.

"I will if you get on with it." The position wasn't the most comfortable and he wanted to have sex, not talk about it.

The barest pull of smile was his only warning before he was breached, surprising a gasp from his mouthy Adam. Watching his face Hannibal pushed all the way to the knuckle and hooked, catching the prostate to make his body jolt beneath him. He wore pleasure so beautifully.

Adam would have praised God if he knew what deity to believe in. Instead he praised the man above him. "Hannibal!" He wanted to arch off the platform and twist with the pleasure coursing through him like an electric shock. He was desperate to rake fingers over flesh and thrash against the body above him, but with his legs hooked over shoulder and his body folded with the weight of his lover against him. He couldn't move; only quiver and jerk when the thrust of a finger within him, making his body sing like a well-tuned instrument.

"I warned you about being rude." He kissed the gasping mouth as he added another digit, stretching him with a scissor to open the tight ring of muscle within as he pushed against the ball of nerves that made his body twist.

"Rewarding for bad behaviour isn't the best kind of training Hannibal." He taunted tracing his lip with the tip of a tongue before catching it between teeth as he craned to reveal throat and tempt his tormentor. A third and fourth were added forcing him open as stormy eyes focused on the varying saws and drills that lined one wall.

He could already see it as though he were there. The body of a squealing pig strapped to the table he was being fucked against, tears streaking their face in fear and terror as he stood above them to open their chest with scrapple and saw, breaking the ribs and making them watch as he extracted their lungs to cut free. Holding the fluffy organ in hand as their terror consumed them.

It would only take one slice to sever the flow of air and watch them suffocate. He could even hold their shuttering heart to feel its end, lose himself in their eyes to drink their fear like wine while awaiting deaths cold grasp together.

He came back reeling, his body jerking with every thrust that pushed into him to stroke the cluster of nerves sending him toward his peek. "You're mistaking punishment for reward," Were spoken against his gasping mouth.

He wondered what it was Adam had seen within his mind to make his heart race, he desperately wished to join him in that bone cage to see what wonders roamed within. Driving into him again and gripped him at his base just as lips fell open and eyes blew wide, the burst of a nebula blinding his vision as he climaxed, coming without a single touch to his weeping cock.

Pupils rimmed with the barest line of blue searched maroon as his end was denied, the hold too tight to allow his release even as fingers continued to stroke against his core. "You're cruel Hannibal." He gasped as thin lips found his own in a gentle kiss, contrasting beautifully against his painful denial.

"I am," He released him as he backed away from the edge that had almost taken him, easing Adam into a more comfortable position with legs settled around his waist. With a sweep of lube over his swollen cock Hannibal leaned over his bringer of death and pushed inside with one smooth motion. "But I will not be cruel to you."

Adam felt every inch of the heavy cock fill him. It was larger than the fingers that had stretched him before, leaving him feeling too full as he tried to relax around the sudden girth.

"You are the angel of death who has found himself lost on this earth." He kissed him, shifting his hips to draw himself to the tip before pushing back in with the same slow motion. "But you will not be lost for much longer, we will carve a place for you in this world." He watched Adam take him, the shuttering pleasure that coursed through him with every languid pump of his cock into the yielding flesh.

Adam wore emotion like a second skin, his eyes alight with desire and passion as he locked his ankles at the small of his back to urge him deeper, faster.

"You're very poetic," Adam kissed into his jaw, catching the skin of his throat between teeth to suck his own mark into flesh. He was beautiful in all the ways a creature of carnage and death could be. His body a cage of possession and power wrapped around Adam as they made love in the room of a hundred deaths. Adam watched the every one of them from his back, gripping their killer to adore his flesh with bruising kisses to match the chain of onyx made across his own.

They would be equals in the kingdom of their chaos, wearing crowns of bone and shrouds of blood. Gasping as another thrust flooded him with pleasure he wondered if he had always been so twisted or if something had broken him long ago to make him this way. He wondered if there were wanted posts for him with a reward printed under an unflattering mug shot or if he was as invisible to the flock as Hannibal.

"Your mind wonders Adam," Hannibal accused accurately, flagging thrusts the only sign of how close he sat to his end. "Tell me what it is you see."

"I see a kingdom of blood," he gasped between thrusts, his body shaking as he was brought closer to peek once more, "and it's ruler above me." It was the flesh he caught between his teeth that kept him quiet as he came, body tense as his pleasure made a mess between them.

Adam was unsure whether his end urged Hannibal's or if the man had been waiting for Adam to finish before taking his own, but the feel of liquid heat filling him as his lover stilled above with a sign of release a few moments later singled his end.

He fell back on the slab with a sigh, fucked out and satisfied enough to sleep on the stainless steel he lay upon. He closed his eyes to let as much be known.

"You need to be cleaned again." He observed, running the pad of his thumb along the curve of a stubbled cheek.

Adam turned to catch that thumb between his teeth, the barest slit of eyes made sky blue from lust peeking back at him. "I'll shower in the morning." He closed them again, laying back.

"At least let us take this to an actual bed." He encouraged, easing free his flaccid cock to slip from the table.

"You don't like the bed I picked?" Adam sighed but got up to follow, the promise of a proper mattress winning out over his laziness. His feet still hurt from walking on gravel for hours, but it wasn't enough to have him asking for a hand getting up the stairs.

"You are certainly welcome to sleep in the basement if you'd like. But you may find it lacking." Hannibal answered as he gathered their discarded clothes. He would hang them for dry cleaning once Adam was settled.

"Like blanks? Or you?" He followed the killer earning a quick look as they ascended the stairs.

"Both."

OoOoO

The bedroom was just as elaborate as the rest of the house, decorated in bold masculine colors with two walk in closets and an ensuite that put the downstairs washroom to shame. He'd barely taken notice of the number of doors except that he'd needed to find a bathroom to take a piss or not even that small detail would have been registered. He was tired from whatever his day had consisted of and the bed donned in silk sheets the shade of sapphires was too tempting for Adam to turn from in favor of exploring room or house. Those would wait until morning.

Dropping on to a bed softer than clouds he stretched sore muscles until his joints groaned in protest, relaxing into the soft bedding to let his eyes fall shut as he waited for Hannibal to join him.

Adam realized that at some point he must have dozed because he woke up to the feeling of still damn skin between his thighs and over stomach with the warmth of blankets draped over him and the weight of another at his side.

Rolling over he found Hannibal reading from an iPad, his ashen hair sticking damp to skin from his shower. "Would you rather I slept in a guest room?" Adam asked despite having about as much interest in moving as a sloth.

Thin lips pulled into a smile as sanguine eyes slid from the iPad to Adam. "I would rather you share my bed." He took his chin in the curl of a finger and met him in a kiss. "But if you would rather take the night to yourself it will only take a moment to ready a guest room for you."

Adam didn't answer, at least not in words. Instead he curled himself into Hannibal's side, resting his head on the broader man's chest as he slipped back to sleep.

He watched Adam as his breathing slowed, dark lashes creating crescent moons against his cheeks as he slept. "If there is a God then he must have truly love me." He said unto deaf ears.

There was no other explanation for the good fortune of the angel curled against him. Combing fingers through feathery curls he returned to his reading, finding his place in the Tattle Crime article outlining the sudden disappearance of FBI Special Agent William Graham, the profiler currently pursuing several ongoing high profile criminals, including the Chesapeake Ripper.

He smiled fondly at the picture of a quiet man hiding behind thick rimmed glasses he didn't need and ill fitted clothing. His darling Adam.

Wasn't that interesting?

TBC

OoOoO

End Notes: Thank you for reading, your Favorites are playing with meat hooks and drills, your reviews are bouncing on Hannibal's bed.


	3. Will Graham

Authors Note: Look what you've done to me! This was meant to be a one shot and now I've got half a damn novel planned for it! I hope you're all happy with yourselves!

Honestly though, thanks to everyone who's been reading, kudoing and leaving comments. For whatever reason this story seems to have gotten a lot of attention, so if you want it I will write it. C:

Also it should be noted that as this was planned to be a one shot I did have to go back to chapter 01 and change one line in order to turn this into a longer story.

Enjoy.

I own nothing.

Not Beta Read.

03

Despite the heavy drapes that hung across the window when the sun rose to spill light over the horizon and chase away the last of night with hues of red and gold, a beam of light still found its way into the killers darkened room, creeping in through a crack in those curtains. The light crawled between drapes of heavy velvet and climb over the windowsill down onto the floor. It moved with a slow almost hesitant nature, ebbing in to chase away more of the shadows as he found the skirt tales of satin to scale bedding the color of oceans untraveled and crawled further up. It traveled over bodies curled together in sleep before the ray of light settling upon the face of a man who should never have been there.

It was the shift of a body that woke him, the unusual presence of another in his bed that roused the killer from his dreamless sleep. Hannibal opened his eyes with the ready awareness of a predator honed for survival, the unique shade of maroon nearly the color of blood settling upon the source of the movement at once. The man curled into his side.

Either Adam or William had rolled away from the light, the shift of a body unfamiliar against his own rousing him for an attack against an intruder.

Instead he was greeted with the sight of parted lips made soft by sleep and the ghost of breath against his face. His angel was still sleeping, his dark lashes curling against his cleeks like ebony moons against a cream colored sky. The ringlets of his hair a halo in the morning light, their stray wisps catching light to gather and hold it in a ring of gold.

He wondered what he'd done to earn such a beautiful man in his bed. He wondered what he would have to do to keep him there, who he would have to kill.

Or break.

With one arm curled beneath his pillow the other sought the too thin waist of the man at his side, a match created for him by God himself. It would take God to take him away.

Hannibal wished to see more of the monster Will Graham kept hidden within, the predator he locked away in the shadows of his mind to watch with thoughts of warm blood and cold murder. He wanted to witness the beauty of his darling Adam's skills in the darkness of their art.

But that would all depend on who woke by his side. The skilled profiler he would be forced to strangle and devour or the chaotic Adam he desired to take again in a murder room slicked with blood.

He felt another shift of the body against him and watched as tired eyes nearly the shade of sea skies in the bright morning light blinked awake to greet him with a lazy smile. "Morning doctor," He leaned forward to capture thin lips with his own, wrapping his arms around shoulders to draw the broader man close. "Were you watching me?"

"Hard not to," He felt the pull of a smile as he rolled to pull Adam on top.

"What is this between us?" Adam smiled back, pressing himself into the body of hardened muscle beneath him, his morning wood present against the man's stomach.

Broad hands ran from ribs to hip, pulling the lost man farther up his stomach to sit, "Is there a label you would prefer?" he reached into his bedside table to produce a small bottle of scented oil, its contents half empty for Adam to deduce its purpose in the bedroom and experienced use.

He spread his legs a little wider and stretched, drawing his body into an alluring line for the predator beneath him as hands slicked with liquid smelling of jasmine and cedar parted the globes of his ass to touch his entrance and slip inside. His muscles were still loose from their activities only a few hours before but he bit his lip at the intrusion and fullness all the same. "I don't think there is a label for what we have, this relationship seems to be a design all our own." His smile was lazy as he felt the digits enter him and he rocked his hips to urge them on. "But we can call ourselves 'boyfriends' if you'd like."

"Labels create restrictions, at times it is best to work without them." He pressed a third into his Adam and watched as the lithe body arched back, hands splayed over the plains of his stomach as he rode the fingers that stretched him within. There was so much confidence in the slim agile body on top him, something that had been missing from the photo's he'd been looking at the night before.

It made him want to learn more about the man named William crouching within his Adam and waiting to get out. He would have to look into him before he woke up, see exactly what it was that left him so insecure in his surroundings.

See if he was something he could break to bring his Adam back once he awoke.

Perhaps the inverted nature he had witnessed in William through the shots was caused by a sense of shame for Adam, a self-loathing or denial toward his desire to kill and the enjoyment he felt from it.

"I'm sorry," Adam taunted, reaching behind to remove fingers from himself and instead guide a swollen cock into his body, "is this a bad time for you?"

"I promise I'm not distracted," The words came out in a groan as he was eased into a body tighter than he'd expected. "All my thoughts remain on you."

He smiled, biting his lip as he began a languid rocking of his hips, taking Hannibal to the hilt with encouraging hands on his waist as he rose to Hannibal's tip before plunging to its base. "Suppose I have no room to talk." His laugh was mixed with panted gasps, his body tensing as he skewered himself onto Hannibal's thick cock to feel the press of swollen head against his prostate.

He pressed back, pushing into Adam to make his beautiful mouth fall open and body arch. "What were you thinking of last night?" Gripping hips tight enough to bruise he raised Adam until only the head remained before urging the body down again, thrusting up to meet him and draw a startled cry from kiss swollen lips.

"I was watching," he shuttered, leaning back to settle hands on Hannibal's thighs and better the predators view. "I watched you butcher a sounder and then I took your place to carve up another." He rolled his hips to draw a quiet sound from his lover before pushing down again, gripping tight the flesh inside him to force a sharp breath from Hannibal with his pleasure. He smiled meeting eyes the color of wine as they drank in his naked form.

"Your mind wonders whether you wish it to or not." He bucked again to make his breath hitch and body draw taught. The beginning to his end, "You see death wherever it is present." Half lidded storm clouded skies seemed to smile at him in silent confirmation before sliding to his lips. A habit of William's Adam had not been able to break. "You become the bringer of death regardless if it suits you."

Blue grey fell closed as a keen mind moved to focus on the movement of hips and building pressure in the base of his stomach. Hannibal enjoyed seeing him cum without the assistance of a hand to his cock. He'd seen it the night before when the doctor had worked so hard to bring him to his end without the assisting touch.

It fed his ego and narcissism to bring Adam to his end by body alone and was a gift he would give him again if only because he enjoyed the sensation of reaching his climax from within himself. He focused on the perusal of his pleasure and empathised with the drawing of Hannibal's, focusing on his keeper and the pleasure coursing through him caused by Adam, it urged him forward and pushed him to pursue his end without aid to his weeping cock.

"You enjoy it." Hannibal continued, pushing himself to the hilt and stilling to hold Adam mounted as he climaxed, keeping his bucking hips in place with gripping hands as he rode out his pleasure, the evidence of his end spilling out between them to streak silvering chest hair.

He took a breath, head lulling between his shoulders as he felt the gentle urge of hands to continue and followed their lead, allowing Hannibal to pursue his own pleasure with a quicker pace now that Adam's had been found. "It makes me feel powerful," He sighed, as Hannibal buried himself deeper, taking his pleasure past the buddle of nerves that made Adam keen. "It makes me feel righteous."

He found his end within him, filling Adam with his heat as he examined the face of a man nothing like the one he'd seen in photo's the night before. "Beautiful." He whispered, pulling Adam down to lie against him for a kiss.

They remained that way for several minutes, with Adam laid over Hannibal and the killer buried inside. "Beautiful?" Adam smiled, closing his eyes to rest against his lover as they caught their breaths. "There are thousands of killers lose in the world. What is it that makes my violence a thing of beauty against theirs?"

He buried his nose in soft curls and smiled into a scent of warm sweetness that was both peculiar and Adam, "Because we are alike."

"Two sides of the same coin?" Adam grinned against his collarbone, kissing one of the onyx marks he'd sucked into flesh the night before, "Because we remove those unworthy of life."

"We give them a greater purpose in death." He eased his flaccid cock from the yielding flesh of Adam's body, drawing a groan from the younger man at the feeling of loss as cum and oil trickled down his thighs. Despite the mess it was a look he could appreciate.

"Like breakfast?" Adam asked with an air of hopefulness, he couldn't remember the last time he'd ate and if the prominence of his ribs were anything to go by it wasn't nearly a frequent enough venture for him to start skipping.

"Like breakfast. Shall we shower first?" Adam rolled off him and stretched, drawing his arms above his head to pop shoulders and feel more of the quickly cooling warmth run down his legs.

He would have gladly waited until after food for the shower if it wasn't for the sticky mess between his thighs. "Such a proper monster," He pressed another lazy kiss to thin lips before sauntering into the washroom. "I get first wash, you made the mess."

Grinning over his shoulder Adam didn't close the door as he stepped inside, a mist of steam soon filtering out the jarred door. The proper monster watched as ghosts of heated water crawled into his bedroom in invitation for one monster to join the other.

Rising from the bed he followed his lover into the shower, it would be rude to refuse an invitation.

OoOoO

"Oh my god," Adam nearly moaned around his mouthful of fluffy eggs and juicy sausage. "This is amazing." He licked his lips to gathering the lingering taste of smoky meat and tried his coffee. He could have died from the taste of sweetened bold roast alone. "Did you make the sausage?" He hadn't expected Hannibal to be a terror in the kitchen, but he hadn't expected to find himself dining at the hands of a gourmet either. His monster could cook, better than that he obviously enjoyed it and enjoyed seeing others take pleasure in his culinary art.

If meat that seemed to melt on the tongue and perfectly sweetened coffee were but the tip of the ice burg Adam would gladly hand the chore off to him. The idea of standing at a stove wasn't all too appealing to him anyway. It was probably a factor towards his being so skinny.

Sipping his own coffee Hannibal was more content watching his angel consume the flesh of lesser beings than indulging in it himself. It filled him with a warmth he hadn't thought himself capable of feeling anymore, a sense of belonging he wanted to keep as he watched another so much like himself devour human flesh knowingly. "I'm very particular with what I put in my body," he explained, at last lifting his fork to sample a portion of protein scramble. "For that reason I prepare most of my food myself."

Despite efforts not to scarf the fare he'd been presented Adam was already pushing away an empty plate, satisfied in a way that left him neither hungry nor full. "So it's made from people." He summarized, draining his coffee and rising to get another. He had a feeling from the edge of a caffeine headache pressing in on him that he was a bit of an addict. "Do you eat other meats?" He rinsed his plate and deposited it in the dishwasher before refilling his cup, returning to his seat at the table.

"I partake in all forms of protein," he watched Adam move around his kitchen with some measure of comfort in his steps. His feet were healing cleanly and would continue to do so under his care. Though it would still be preferable that Adam remain off them for a few days, he enjoyed seeing the man take a moment to keep his sanctuary clean. "I have a few butchers I trust for the purchase of meat," He selected another piece of flesh and thought of the doctor it had come from with delight. He was serving a far higher purpose filling their bellies than he ever had testing blood. "I simply prefer my own."

Their conversation was interrupted by an abrupt knock at the door. "Do you often get visitors first thing in the morning?" Adam asked as he watched the micro expression of his lovers face change to one of curious annoyance, their attention drawn towards the door.

It would appear that Hannibal didn't enjoy being interrupted during meals, it was a bit of knowledge he tucked away for later. It was good to know what the killer you were sleeping with found annoying.

"If you'll excuse me," He rose from the table, leaving his breakfast to cool and company to wait as he walked the short distance from his dining room to the front door.

"Good morning Dr. Lecter," A broad shouldered man in a black coat nearly soaked through with rain and looking rather tired greeted as he opened one double door.

It was raining, an icy autumn downpour expected to continue well into the night, one he was more than a little pleased to have saved his Adam from. The man held out a hand in formal greeting and Hannibal accepted it in a soggy shake as was polite, though he made no offer to admit the man into his home. He had an overhang that was doing quite nicely to keep the man disturbing his peace from becoming overly wet and unless he had come to tell him that his office had burnt to the ground during the night and his phone lines were cut preventing a call, he was going to politely harvest his organs and have them for dinner. It was ten in the morning on a Saturday. "I'm special agent Jack Crawford of the FBI. I apologize for bothering you at your home but I need to speak with you. May I come in?"

He knew of Mr. Crawford, though he had never met the man in person. An avid reader of Tattle Crime, Hannibal was well informed on the agent pursuing him. What he was more interested in knowing was to what purpose he was visiting his home and what was contained in the folder peeking out from the wet flaps of his jacket in a vain attempt to keep it dry. Stepping to the side he allowed the agent entry.

Some things were better kept within the house.

A potential murder one of them.

Taking his jacket he lead him into a sitting room away from the kitchen, the last thing he needed was for Adam to search out the facilities and the missing FBI profiler wonder by to surprise Jack as they talked.

"May I inquire what this is about?" He fastened his house coat, not having expected any guests he and Adam had decided to spend the morning dressed in the sleep wear they had forgone the night before, intent on a lazy day in each other's company and the possible continuation of earlier activates well into the afternoon.

"You can, but I'd like to ask you a few questions first." He smiled, the look a little less strained and a little more friendly as he took the indicated seat and Hannibal lit a fire. "You have a very lovely home doctor." He placed the folder on a table set between their chairs but did not push it towards him. Hannibal followed it momentarily with his eyes before settling across from Jack in a seat of his own. He did not enjoy being caught off guard, nor did he appreciate being investigated while in his pajamas. If it wasn't for the danger of leaving the man alone to wonder the halls of his house and in chance discover Will, he would have left to dress.

"Are you here to investigate me agent Crawford?" he had offered him the chair to the right of the fire. It placed Jack closer to the door, but Hannibal closer to the iron poker he would use to run him through.

"No, no," He tapped the folder with a finger, eyes drawn to it in quiet contemplation before pushing it fractionally across the table. "You came as a recommendation to me from Dr. Alana Bloom."

"Dr. Bloom?" He settled some, a recommendation from Alana would have him hidden well beneath their radar. "And what has Alana recommended me for?"

"Due to circumstances I have found myself short two of my best profilers." He admitted, though it sounded as though he were reconciling with a death that had yet to be confirmed, he had an idea's whose corps he was waiting on. "Your name was given to me as a recommendation for assisting on high profile cases until such time that Dr. Bloom can resume."

He reached for the offered file, Jack's hand moving out to touch his own in warning before it was opened and horrors revealed. "These are high profile criminals Dr. Lecter."

"Before I became a psychiatrist I was a surgeon for an emergency ward." The hand remained.

"I just want you to prepare yourself, these won't be what you're used to seeing." Hand removed he opened the folder. The first picture to face him was beautiful. "This is a file of one of our current cases. The profile on the killer was never completed. I was hoping you might be able to supply us with a profile on this killer and perhaps a few other."

"You said that you were down by two profilers though you only mentioned the assumed return of Dr. Bloom. Would it be safe to assume that 'due to circumstances' the death of one has affected the other?" He turned the page to find another of the same clipped to a report describing the deceased. There were two more beyond that before he recognized one for all the slight differences it held from the rest.

The murders had been committed by one they called the 'Angel Maker'. His victims all stripped, flayed, presented and burned. Their skin hung with hooks, wire and string to keep the flesh spread as angel wings, their genitals removed and their hands bound in prayer before they were left to burn in hell fire made by their prosecutor.

Each victim had been executed and displayed in the same artistic cruelty as the first, each victim identified by their dental records alone.

Each victim the same but one.

The last photo was different, a break in the cycle due to a lack of equipment and an unexpected change of hands.

The final body had been found slumped and burnt. The flesh and sticks that had held the victim in form had burned away to leave little evidence of their standing form. But the rocks that had held his charred body propped and the hole is his neck still remained.

This was his dear Adam's kill.

A replica of the murders Will had been chasing before he had been caught by the Angel Maker and destined towards victimization.

"We have nothing confirmed." Jack may have been trying to convince himself of lingering hope, but the doubt Hannibal heard within him spoke of memories of Miriam Lass. "He was chasing a lead on this criminal before he disappeared."

He wondered if the information he was about to feed him would ease his pain or feed its fire, "The last murder was retaliation from the victim." Hannibal announced. "The corpse is your killer. His intended victim mimicked his methods and escaped." He leaned back in his chair, leaving the folder open between them with his lovely Adam's murder on top.

Jack looked from the photo to the report. "How can you be so sure?"

"While all other victims had been purposefully burned alive, the last one was not." He fingered a line in the autopsy report, "he died from the wound to his throat, one I suspect to be a defense wound from his intended victim. I would assume the rest to be the results of temporary insanity triggered by trauma." He watched as Jack's jaw clenched with thoughts of a profiler lost to insanity rather than death. It made him more curious as to who Will Graham was that he would vastly prefer one over the other. "There is no guarantee that the victim was your profiler Agent Crawford."

"There's no proof that it wasn't." He sighed. "We found the murder weapon, but the prints were too smudged to lift a proper ID." He flipped the folder closed, face hard as he mulled over the information provided. "We believe that the last victim _is_ our missing profiler, though we have yet to find his body."

"Do you believe he's dead or you hope for it?" Hannibal pressed the still raw wound to watch Jack squirm.

"I would prefer it to the alternative." He admitted, glancing from the folder to the doctor across from him.

"The murder was committed in self defense. I hardly think that paints your profiler a killer." He played the role of a comforting soul.

Jack shook his head, leaning back to stare at the fire as though the flames might give him answers not yet known, "There's a difference between self defense and mutilation." Though the look in his eye said there was more to know, "You don't know Will Graham. He'll serve time this if it was him, for what he did to the body."

"I believe a psych evaluation would be necessary before incarceration. We have no idea what methods may have used in the apprehension of Mr. Graham." He steepled his fingers, relaxing into the game of devil's advocate, "He may have been suffering delusions prior to the killer's execution."

Silence fell between them, the void filled only by the sound of wind, rain and the crackling of wood on the fire. "I hope you're right. But regardless I still need a profiler until Alana is able to return to her duties." He tapped the folder, reminding Hannibal of the beautiful horrors inside. "There would be a lot more like this, some worse."

"Alana is a good friend of mine. I would be happy to help." Though it still left him curious, "May I inquire what it is about Mr. Graham's disappearance that has left Alana unable to work."

A serious look was cast to him, though it was one of knowing, "I'm not at the liberty to say, it's a question you'll have to ask Dr. Bloom." Slipping a card from his pocket he placed it on top of the folder, "We'd be happy to have you on the team Dr. Lecter. Thank you for your time."

It wasn't until after he'd seen Jack out and flipped the lock that he returned to the study in search of Adam, his angel at last creeping out from his hiding place see what he had only listened to before. "That was quite rude of you Adam, listening in on our conversation like that." He stepped closer, coming up behind his angel to grip him around the waist with one arm as he turned the pages of the file with the other, setting stormy eyes on the remains of the kill he'd left to burn.

But it wasn't the photo Adam was looking at, it was the report pinned beneath it. "Who's Will Graham?"

OoOoO

TBC

Thank you for reading~3

Your favorites are playing with fire, your reviews are holding the extinguisher to put the favorites out.


	4. Storm Day

Authors Notes – Hello again everyone! If you've been wondering where the hell I disappeared off to I've had a LOT of family and friends visiting and been away on vacation. My opportunities for writing were next to nil.

But now I'm back to work and everything seems to be settling again so hopefully the story updates should return to something a little more regular. C:

Now onto the story!

This chapter is for Min ruis, thank you for always being such a supportive reader~3

I OWN NOTHING!

This isn't Beta read.

OoOoO

Chapter 04

"He's a profiler for the FBI." Hannibal answered in half-truths, no lies given but the omission of certain information not yet necessary for his Adam to be made aware. "Is he familiar to you?" He took Adam by the shoulders, running hands in a slow soothing drag from shoulder to elbow, easing the slighter man to lean back against him. He watched fingers paler than his own slowly turn the pages of a folder he hadn't been meant to see.

"These are familiar." He murmured soft in answer, running his fingers along the glossy images of the Angel Makers victims. Will had been meant to become one of those beautiful bodies displayed on lengths of twine and wire. His flesh flayed and spread like wings and hands bound in silent prayer for the forgiveness of his sins. Instead Will had been saved by Adam, created by the Angel Maker in another form, such beautiful irony for the killer to have created his own Angel of Death.

He turned the pages of the folder to the killing made by Adam himself, comparing the raw necessity of Adam's quick work to the slow thoughtful process of the killer he had ended. Hannibal wondered how the work of art his beloved had created may have turned out if he had been given the proper supplies to create.

It was a question he would have answered soon enough. "You recognize the bodies of the man you killed?" He let stormy eyes slid over the charred form of the one he had finished, the ending he had not stayed to behold. Adam hadn't thought he would have the chance to see the end result of his work. It was beautiful.

Skin burned to the wet muscle and charred bone, jaw slack with the missing muscles needed to hold the bone clenched, throat open to reveal black tissue deeper when the flesh had shrunk back with flames from the cut. He wanted to keep the picture.

"I know them." He indicated the victims, the ones he had not slain nor known, yet knew the methods of their death in cinematic vivid detail, as though their murders had been created by his own hand, "I know his methods, I know why he did it," He let his fingers trace along the photo's edge, as though trying to feel the death that lingered within the glossy surface. "It's as though he lives in a corner of my mind, carved a hollow for himself in which to crouch and survive past death, to be revived at my finger tips with a summoning of will to recreate the deaths that I have absorbed through his works." He fall silent, feeling the barest rise of heart beat against his back, the stir of excitement from the man behind him, "I played witness to his heinous crimes like a student to an artist, replicating the masterpieces created by my mentors so that I might better understand them…" He furrowed his brow, anger beginning to rise as he stared on at an image he could not read. "Yet I can't seem to find myself, understand who I am."

"Does it matter who you used to be?" He closed the folder, laying the thick manilla on the table where it would remain until Hannibal saw fit to assist the agent further.

He remained silent for another long moment, staring into the fire that popped with flame before them, "It's frustrating," he admitted, "not that I don't remember who I was, but because there are so many others squatting in my mind to dictate who I should be." A sardonic smile curved his bowed lips, "Including you Hannibal," He let his fingers intertwine with the killer who held him. "You're slowly carving a place of your own within my head, claiming a piece of my mind as your own to keep."

He squeezed that hand, comfort instead of denial. "I would take more than your mind, beautiful boy," he nuzzled into the soft curls that pressed against his face, smelt the heady aroma of a spicy sweetness that lingered beneath his heated skin, the cedar and jasmine of his soaps and scrubs massaged into ill cared for flesh during their shared shower that morning, and the natural scent of his angel beneath it all. "I would take your soul." His mind, his heart, his body, they all belonged to him now. He had found the match which had been created especially for him. He would never let him go.

"Should I be worried?" Lifting calloused with murder and aged with years Adam examined the fine lines of a man who had known both hardship and wealth, poverty and plenty. He kissed that hand, pressed aged skin to his lips to feel the shift of tendons beneath his mouth.

That hand cupped his face, turned him to better face the one who stood behind him. "I will only help you to become something better. I will not replace you with myself."

"Reassuring," He murmured as thin lips found his own in a pliant kiss, turning in the stronger man's arms to wrap his own around his waist and feel the heat of the fire radiate against his back. "But I would still like to gain a better sense of who _I_ am."

Fingers trailed the length of his Adam's spin, following the line of a curve to settle at the point of tailbone above the swell of his ass, "Do you believe yourself to be this Will Graham?" he pushed, curious if perhaps the agent might awaken, or if his angel would keep the profiler at bay as the profiler had kept Adam locked away within the darkness of his mind.

He cocked his head, considering the question, "I'm not sure." He set his head to the killers shoulder, examining the curve of his jaw, the stubble that had begun to show along its flesh. Hannibal would shave the greying growth with one of the strait razors he'd seen in the bathroom and then he would ask Adam to do the same.

Adam would take the blade in hand, froth his face with a blend of cream create by Hannibal himself, remove the stubble from his chin to leave in its wake clean, sensitive skin and would look in the mirror at himself still unaware of whether he preferred himself with or without facial hair. If it was Hannibal's preference or his own. "I could be I suppose. But then again there's nothing to say that I'm be a journalist or officer and my knowledge of the happenings of these victims comes from that." He shrugged, a curious smile pulling his lips as he pressed another kiss to the juncture of his throat. "It doesn't matter who I _was_. Whoever this body used to belong to, their memories are presently in storage. They belong to _my_ body and I haven't found them yet, he isn't home." And he didn't intend to find them anytime soon, Adam enjoyed killing. He didn't have any intention to stop, reviving a guilty conscious in the form of officer or profiler was so far down the list of what he wanted it didn't' even register. "I have no intention of bringing them back."

Hands cupped his cheeks to run a thumb along the curve of his jaw, "Beautiful boy." He smiled, drawing him closer to kiss, gentle and passionate, "I fear the day I lose you."

OoOoO

The rain poured down in turrets, heavy droplets bouncing off the asphalt as though the sky were placing a game of 'Jacks'. Paired with the rising winds throwing leaves like scraps of tissue paper from the trees, it was the sort of day that would have encouraged Hannibal to stay inside, enjoy a heady vintage and read by the fire, work on one of his thesis or sketch. Instead he had been forced to venture out.

As with anyone taking in a stray, even one as beautiful as the monster standing by his side, there were certain obligations that needed to be fulfilled.

Clothing was one of them. As much as Hannibal enjoyed seeing his Adam dressed in veils of nothing and his own wardrobe of layered silks, cottons and finely brushed wool, the clothing borrowed hung too loosely from his delicate frame, the excess fabric taking away from the beauty of his slender form. As a man who enjoyed his aesthetics it was a correction he wished to make sooner rather than later, especially with the growing possibility of Adam's memory loss remaining for an extended period of time. He simply needed to have a few things of his own.

It still left the cannibal curious as to what it was keeping Will repressed and allowing Adam to live, a confusion encouraged by his empathy disorder or something more. It was a curiosity Hannibal fully intended to explore when time allowed, along with Will Graham's little farm house in Wolf Trap, Virginia. He had found the location listed by his favorite tabloid journalist, the fiery haired reporter seemed to have a personal vendetta against the profiler, more than willing to feed every ounce of information she could render into manipulated words in her articles.

Hannibal had no doubt that a few of the truths listed had been taken out of context. News, honest news, didn't sell nearly as well as fiction.

"Is there a particular pattern you feel partial to?" Hannibal led the too lean man around the tailors shop, an oddly young woman with a keener eye for seams and suits than he had anticipated upon first meeting ran the small shop. Despite her age, her talent was unparalleled and Hannibal had been purchasing his suits from the youth ever since.

His angel shrugged, running his fingers over bolts of rich fabric soft and smooth beneath his fingertips as though to feel their wealth. "I don't want plaid." He said without insult toward the doctor's particular taste. Hannibal, oddly enough, could make the strange combination of plaid and paisley work to flatter his person suit, the bright bold colors hiding more of his darkness from the sheep they walked amongst as someone paired personality with clothing.

Standing in the claustrophobic shop room, too many bolts of fabric and suit styles crammed into one small place, dressed in one of Hannibal's many plaid suits, Adam felt like an alien.

Whoever he was now, or had been before, did not wear plaid suits. Possibly, did not wear suits or even own a proper suit. Whoever he had been did not purchase his clothing, any of it, from tailor shops or private boutiques. A simple enough conclusion based on his own lack of knowledge pertaining to any form of fashion or how to proceed in the expensive shops Hannibal had been directing him to. Even here in the privately owned store on the side street of a quiet neighbourhood surrounded by houses Adam felt out of place. It had taken three shops before Adam began to relax and then only with the promise of allowing Adam to select his own wardrobe.

Adam found he could appreciate some of the plainer combinations in suits and high end garments, Hannibal offering his opinion on style and shade while allowing Adam to create a style that would be unique to him. Dark pinstripes only slightly darker grey to the cloth they ran through, plain charcoals and dark blues, were his favorite. Blues in general he'd learned he enjoyed, possibly a favorite color.

Adam turned admire at the strong man behind him examining suit styles, keen eyes running the length of sleeve and thickness of lapels with a calculating look, Adam smiled as he watched.

He also knew he liked reds. The color of drying blood, deep crimson smears turning rust brown against skin or splashing onto earth to mix with the soil and color it with death.

The shade of Hannibal's eyes.

"I don't have any money." Adam reminded his keeper, more than aware of his dependence on this other monster as they shopped for something to wear. "Nor an income." He smiled, tapping two bolts he found more appealing than others as Hannibal selected a number of suits for the ex-profiler to wear.

"Nor do I expect any form of repayment." Though he would not be opposed to any sexual favors Adam may wish to share on behalf of his kindness. Smiling at the thought of full lips wrapped around his swollen cock Hannibal first held one suit and then the other against Adam's slim form. "I think a notch lapel, three button in the pinstripe." He draped one suit over his arm, "and a two button, three piece in the stone washed grey." Draping a second he replaced the rejects of his selection back on the rack. "You'll need to try these on."

Stormy eyes turned from the suits laid over arm to the man holding them, a simple request, a necessity before any expensive purchase.

He didn't want to.

Another attribute Adam wasn't sure had come from his current or former self. He didn't like shopping, spending money, or showing off clothing like a doll, though Hannibal had been more than enjoying himself in the game of dressing him up. There were already a number of bags in the trunk of the Bentley containing everything from socks, underwear and dental care to casual wear, dress shoes and sneakers.

"Try these on and we will call it a day." Hannibal promised the man eyeing the suits as though he were personally offended by them.

"Last time," Adam warned, taking the selection to follow the tailor back to a change stall where he would try them, refuse to show Hannibal and inform the killer yes or no.

Adam had stopped participating in modeling about an hour into shopping, despite Hannibal's best efforts to coax the young man out. Adam had informed the eager monster that he was more than capable of selecting clothing for himself and if he wanted to see him in them he would have to wait until Adam chose to don them. Hannibal reminded him what he graced his table with and Adam reminded him that he could read people like an open book and his empty threat was noted.

With an indifferent sound of approval mumbled through the door Hannibal placed an order for three suits while his angel was otherwise occupied. Adam could negotiate any clothing he wished to wear or discard with the exception of one.

Hannibal fought the urge to smile as he watched his Adam emerge, a nervousness touching his stomy eyes Hannibal hadn't witnessed yet as he stepped out of the changing room clad in nothing but the boxers he had lent him. "She said the pants you gave me are too big to wear while measuring, too much fabric getting in the way." The touch of shyness at his public reveal was a pleasant development to the confidence he had worn when walking the streets naked and alone only the evening before. "I can't wear them while she's taking my inseam." He quietly complained, the youth he had come to trust with all his suit needs already on one knee with a measuring tape wrapped around the skin of Will's thigh for total accuracy in what would be the perfect fit.

"That is because she is a professional, one who aims for perfection in everything that she does." Hannibal smiled at the young woman jotting numbers on a piece of paper as she took several more intimate measurements before releasing Adam to re-dress and hide his perfect form.

"You don't find it invasive?" Adam questioned as he turned from the pair, stilling to stare past walls of fabric to the tiny shop window up front.

He didn't laugh, but the crinkle of skin by his eyes suggested the monsters amusement with all the mirth that a deep chuckle might have brought. "You'll be happy to know she takes no pleasure from your nudity. She's found another woman to fill that space for her."

The seamstress glanced from her pad to the doctor as Adam dismissed his clothes to instead approach the front door, embarrassment and nakedness forgotten. "He could have worn his shirt," She shrugged, gathering the earlier indicated bolts of fabric, "I only wanted the pants."

"Adam?" Hannibal raised a pale brow, watching as his angel strolled to the front door in nothing more than the silk boxers he'd been provided and exited into the rain. "Excuse me." He didn't spare the seamstress a second glance, instead grabbing his jacket as he hurried out of the store.

He stepped out into a storm, torrents of rain poured over him, plastering his suit to his flesh with freezing water within moments, rain that felt like ice threatening to turn to sleet any moment in the sharp wind. "Adam?" He hadn't gone far, the near naked form of his lover easily seen standing across the street. He was crouching over a box, scooping something small and squirming into his arms, protecting it from the weather that froze his skin. Hannibal was there in a moment, hurrying between speeding cars to encompass his shivering angel in the warm heavy wool of his coat.

Adam was already shaking, breath hissing between chattering teeth as he pulled the equally quivering bundle tighter against him, eyes darting between the dark ball of fur and the house they stood at the stoop of. "Th-they abandoned h-im." Adam managed between chattering teeth as Hannibal guided his barefoot lover back toward the clothing shop.

"What did they abandon?" He fought to stop his own teeth from sounding, pressing his tongue between the front to keep them still as they stepped out of the cold and into the warmth of the store, his favorite tailor waiting for them with towels in hand. He would have to make a point of leaving a generous tip.

Accepting a towel, though not for himself, Adam uncurled his arms from the quivering bundle to reveal the ugliest puppy Hannibal had ever seen, wrapping the small shivering dog in the towel he had been offered instead.

It was a pug, young, no more than a couple of months if Hannibal had to guess. Its face had been mulled, turning what would have been soft rolls of skin and fur into a matted mess of torn flesh and blood, a broken eye weeping optical fluids from the left side of its face made the gruesome mess appear all the worse. "He needs a vet." Adam announced, turning to Hannibal as though assisting the dog were the most important thing in all the world.

Perhaps to a man who had only known life for two days it was.

"We will take him to the vet." Hannibal agreed, examining the flood of emotions that danced within his Adam like the storm that raged outside. There was a deep seated worry for the creature he had only just found; concern for its health and wellbeing despite having no time grow an attachment to it, and there was anger. Like lightning strikes flashing through the blue grey sky of his eyes Adam was furious with the man who had abandoned his pet to die.

His Angel of death, the beautiful man who had slaughtered so ruthlessly the night before, found wondering the streets donned in nothing but moon light and blood, had a soft spot for dogs.

"You can borrow one of the sample suits doctor Lecter," The seamstress smiled, "I'll have yours pressed by tomorrow if you want to leave it here while you take care of the dog."

"Thank you," A Generous tip and a bottle of wine.

OoOoO

The pug, a girl it turned out, would live. Though with the severity of her injuries the animal hospital had informed Hannibal they would need to hold her for a number of days and would never be able to see from her left eye again, as though Hannibal had intended to take the small furry creature home.

As it turned out, Adam did.

"How did you know the puppy was out in the storm?" Hannibal asked as carried a number of bags into the house, clothing, toiletries and the fresh produce that would be needed for that nights dinner. He would worry about arguing with Adam regarding the keeping of the dog at a later date, one close to the animal's release. If he was lucky perhaps it would contract an infection and die.

"I saw a man carrying a box out into the storm." Adam explained, as he unceremoniously dumped the bags containing his new clothing by the chair in the kitchen, "I saw him put the box down and push something back in that was trying to get out." He scowled at the thought, a memory extending beyond itself thanks to his empathy. He could almost feel the wet flesh of a crying puppy against his palm, the nipping of milk teeth as he pushed the dog back into the wet cardboard box to die.

Hannibal made a sound deep in his throat as he considered the information presented. "And you felt that it was your duty to investigate and rescue the orphaned animal?"

Adam grinned, almost laughed as he fell back into the leather chair. "I like dogs." He said simply, "I like them a lot, better than people." It was probably the first opinion he knew to be entirely of him own with no influence from others feeding into it. He knew watching the man wonder out to the street corner to abandon the box that it would either be a puppy or kitten being left out to die and in that moment it hadn't mattered to Adam which one it was, all he knew was that he wasn't going to let them. The moment he'd laid eyes on the pup curled in on itself whining in pain and cold, helpless and needy Adam realized that he liked dogs, a lot.

Especially abandoned broken ones, they were like him.

Hannibal made a noncommittal sound deep in his throat as he took note of something far more important than the well-being of a dog he would sooner see turned into gloves than want sitting on his couch.

Circling the kitchen island he crouched before the chair to take the beautiful man's face into his hands, feeling the alarming warmth of fever heated skin, the dampness sticking curls to his Adam's face revealed to be sweat. "You're sick." Hannibal announced at once, turning from his angel to gather a medical kit more fit for surgery than first aid from beneath a kitchen cupboard, withdrawing from it a thermometer.

Adam took the thin glass tub under his tongue, holding it steady as the doctor filled a glass with water and located a bottle of aspirin. He checked the thermometer, reading the thin mercury line with silent consideration before laying it to the side. "A hundred and one," he smiled, placing two small white pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other. "You never mentioned feeling unwell; we could have come home sooner."

"I've felt the same since you found me, maybe the rain made it worse." He dry swallowed the pilled before chasing them down with the water, "Am I in trouble now? Will you send me to bed without dinner?" he smiled as the glass was set aside, his lover taking him by the hand to help him to his feet, leading him upstairs as if he hadn't been standing on his own all day.

"Not without dinner no, but for this I'm going to need to go out again." He walked Adam to their bedroom, assisting the slightly younger man in stripping before tucking him into their bed, "A few ingredients for soup, something to help you feel better."

When he felt his forehead again Adam leaned into the touch, closing his eyes to enjoy the feel of skin against his own, "Nothing as simple as soup from a can?"

"You're sick, I'm not about to poison you," the soft press of lips to his hair line seemed to be the silent dismissal of his toxic order, fingers carding through his still damp hair to smooth the strands back from his face.

"What if I like tin soup?" Adam challenged, a smile pulling the corners of his mouth in a gentle pull, he was tired, but that had more to do with the forced outing than the fever boiling under his skin.

Hannibal drew the heavy curtains cast the room under a veil of darkness, the raging storm a soothing lullaby for his angel of death. "Then you would be forced to resign yourself to a life of disappointment." A quiet laugh sounded from behind as he walked to the door on silent feet, "rest Adam, I will bring you something to eat when you wake."

He didn't see the smile that pulled full lips as he left the room, or the devious turn of stormy eyes toward the window. Hannibal was too busy already making plans for a quick trip to Wolf Trap.

OoOoO

TBC

Thank you for reading, your reviews are climbing through the window to torture puppy abusers, your favorites are playing dress up in the suit shop.


	5. Wolf Trap

Authors Note - Hello darlings~3

I hope you've been enjoying the slightly more frequent updates, I'm trying to get back into the swing of things for you, I've really missed writing during that long break in the summer and it feels good to be getting back into it so I hope you're all still enjoying 'Adam'. C:

I'm sending a HUGE thank you out to Everett_Harte for inspiring over half of this story! She really helped me plot and plan a good portion of this plot and was a tremendous help with me for writing Alana, thanks hun~3

Just to let everyone know I'm going to be a little busy for the next couple of days so the next update will probably be late, but my birthday is tomorrow and my sister is moving so I'm a little tied up this weekend, sorry guys. But I'll try to get an update for something up sooner rather than later if I can.

Thanks to everyone who's been leaving comments and kudos, you always push me to write more and make me want to do my best for all of you. Thank you so very, very much! 3 3 3

And without further ado, here's your update~3

I own nothing.

Not beta read.

OoOoO

Chapter 5

If Hannibal were to describe the farm house for which Will Graham resided, he would have called it quaint.

The house, though large, only seemed to hold evidence of Will's existence within the three main rooms; living room, kitchen and bathroom, the reminder of the home appearing to be at the entire disposal of his pack.

And he did have a pack.

Even from where he stood at the foot of the bed located peculiarly in the living room along with his dresser, Hannibal could see the many shades and lengths of dog hair that saturated every surface of the house.

The numerous dog beds only confirmed this.

It was almost enough to have the killer returning to his car for one of his plastic murder suits, just so that he might spare the borrowed charcoal two-piece from dander and hair.

Though the newly acquired knowledge did offer further insight toward Adam's love for the four legged creatures and his rescue of the mongrel now resting at one of the local animal hospitals, it more importantly allowed Hannibal a clearer understanding to what extent Will Graham had resurfaced in that moment of rescue.

He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about the profiler's moment of return.

It was a thought to be further explored another time at his leisure, though resting his Adam was waiting. He would only have so much time to explore the little farm house before he was forced to hurry home to his fevered darling.

Approaching the dresser next he opened the first drawer to reveal an abundance of night wear in the form of cotton pull over shirts and boxer briefs. A glance to the salt stained bed sheets made stale with sweat and the lingering scent of fear offending his olfactory offered more than enough explanation for that.

Will suffered from night terrors, enough so to warrant an entire drawer of fresh night clothes at the ready to prevent himself from getting a chill during the night.

Further exploration revealed a multitude of fresh thread bared sheets, all of them stained with rings of sweat from years of suffering.

Such a curious reveal, he wondered if perhaps his Adam would also suffer the sheet ripping nightmares his counterpart had endured or if perhaps he would find a remedy toward their horrors in the comfort of the blood that soaked his hands.

Only time would tell; but Hannibal hoped to have a front row seat.

Venturing further into the home Hannibal found himself exploring the profiler's small kitchen, opening cupboards to examine cans of beans, instant coffee and bags of soft overripe potatoes with distaste, his refrigerator containing little more than a carton of milk and bag of frozen vegetables. It reinforced his suspicions that Will's eating habits were near non-existent.

Stepping over one of the many dog beds as he returned to the living room he began to wonder the whereabouts of the profilers pack. Either someone had collected the dogs to care for the beasts during their master's absence or they had been carted off to a kennel until the time of Will's return.

He stopped before a hobby desk, the large wooden structure set before the largest window in the living room, providing the profiler with the most natural light for his hobby. He hummed his approval as he examined the beautiful pieces laid out and took a seat before the craft.

His Adam's other half made fishing lures. The desk littered in small organized piles of brightly colored feathers, bones and bits of string. A small case set to the side containing dozens of small sharp hooks. They were deadly lovely things that reminded him of the man who had made them, his darling Adam as beautiful, alluring and deadly as the small bits of craft which he designed.

Selecting a feather nearly the shade of blood he laid it to the neck of an incomplete lure, the delicate curl of feather bending the hide the deadly point of the hook amongst its beauty. "Lovely," he smiled to himself, winding a length of string around its stem to hold the plume secure. A knot and a cut and it was complete, a deadly piece of art created by his sleeping William and completed by his own hand, much as his Adam would be.

A creature crafted by the darkness lurking within the depths of Will's mind to be honed into a master and completed by Hannibal.

He touched his thumb to the hidden point, testing it's sharpness with a gentle press to feel the give of skin as the point pushed through the callous of his thump. The barest tilt of smile pulled his lips as he watched blood swell into a perfect ruby pearl around its tip, he took the bead of offering into his mouth and sucked the salty drop of copper to dance over his tongue, slipping the hook into his pocket just as the front door closed.

Cursing himself for the carelessness of losing himself in the serenity of his surroundings Hannibal turned to greet the new arrival with a curious look, slipping the desks crafting knife up his sleeve for a quick and easy kill.

"Hannibal?" A soft familiar voice questioned as the tall and beautiful Alana Bloom entered the dingy farm house, looking as out of place in its design as Hannibal. She was dressed in a beautiful dark grey jacket tapering at the waist to swell with her hips and offer a shape to her slender frame Hannibal could appreciate, bringing with her a certain light to fill the room even in her state of obvious distress.

"Alana," he pushed the blade farther up his sleeve, the implement of death not needed for this lamb, "what are you doing here?"

Dark brow furrowing she turned to meet his approach, "I was about to ask you the same thing." Not a quip, not a demand, a simply curious approach offered with the trust that came with meeting an old friend and colleague under peculiar circumstances. He had always liked Alana Bloom, her clever mind sharp and just as lovely as the form that held it, yet still so easy to mold just like all the other sheep had been.

"Agent Crawford of the FBI has requested my services for profiling until Will Graham's return. Since it's suspected that he was investigating the Angel Maker before his disappearance I thought it might be best if I were to start here." He explained away his presence in a lie of smoke and mirrors, watching like a beast hidden in the shadows as the lovely brunette stepped into world of his illusion and lose herself within, "Were you friends with Mr. Graham?"

He watched her eyes, beautiful blue orbs far truer to the oceans depths than his Adam's storm grey, as they began to water, taking on a shine that made them even more-lovely to behold. As the opening came he was quick to make his approach acting as a friend, feigning concern as he took her by the shoulders in an act of comfort he did not feel, "Alana?"

She closed her eyes to fight the tears, beautiful painted lips drawing into a tight line as the little crystals rolled to leave a line down her cheek, "I'm sorry," she took a breath, "we were, we are engaged." Swallowing with a throat made tight with sorrow, an effort to collect herself, she worked to blink away the tears.

Hannibal wondered what it was to harbour such emotions. He knew compared to the beautiful creature before him what he felt would be far closer to that of a desert. His oasis of emotion long since dried with the death of his darling Mischa. Though something had begun to stir within him with the unexpected arrival of Adam, another like himself; it was something he hadn't known he needed and now would never let go.

"I'm so sorry Alana." She took another shaky breath as Hannibal helped her to one of the many dog hair saturated chairs, taking a seat across from her in another act of comfort.

She truly was beautiful when she cried.

"Its fine," she swallowed again, clearing her throat as she turned still watery eyes toward the doctor, "You're here investigating? What is it that you're looking for?"

He watched her, the careful control she exuded as she worked to keep herself in check, to stop the tears and hold herself steady, "Are you sure this is something you wish to discuss Alana?" He took her hand into his own, circling his thumb almost intimately along over the fine bones of her hands as he met ocean blue eyes.

"I'm fine," the tremor of her voice said otherwise, "I want to help in any way I can." She smiled and it was with a strength she drew on to push forward, one he had admired in her since the day they'd met.

Nodding he conceded to her wishes, his own curiosity strong enough to have him yield. "I'm trying to discover who William Graham was. I believe a better understanding of the person may help me discern his motives and possible last movements before his disappearance."

She frowned, lovely full painted lips drawing down, "Why are you trying to track Will's motives? Should you be focusing on the killer?"

A moment of quiet passed between them, the dying wind of the storm outside their only break to the silence, as though Hannibal were trying to work toward the courage to tell her a hard truth. Truth or not, it was something he knew the woman wouldn't wish to hear. "The killer has been found." He explained, earning a look of utter confusion from Alana.

"If the killer's been found then…" So strong, Hannibal thought as he watched her swallow back her fear, force her tongue to form the question he so wished to hear, "then where's Will?"

"I'm sorry Alana, but that's why I'm here. William is still missing. Though we found the body of the killer, we have yet to discover William's." This time she did cry. Shoulders quaking in a silent sob as she was forced to work through the onslaught of information provided.

He took her into his arms, allowing the salt of her tears to wet his shoulder as she cried. "I will do everything in my power to find him for you Alana. We must hope for the best."

"Oh God, no, no it's worse than that Hannibal." She sniffed into his shirt, "he's sick."

And wasn't that interesting. "Sick?" He encouraged her to continue, soft circles smoothing into the rough wool of her jacket as he rubbed her back. "What do you mean?"

She was looking for the words, he could feel it beneath his hands in the softly shuttering breaths and calming of her tears, he was trying to find Will, trying to help her and she wanted him to succeed. "We don't know." She began, but didn't stop, "he's been running a fever for a couple of days, possibly weeks." She sounded bitter about it, a fight they had shared no doubt in regards to his health and personal disregard for it, "Jack was pushing him so hard on the Ripper case and more recently the Angel Maker. He pushed him on any serial killer whose case made it to his office with total disregarded to Will's health." Another breath and she pulled away again, angry at Jack and Will and herself for allowing it, she stayed within the confines of his arms while allowing enough space between them for composure.

"He was scheduled for a CT scan." She continued, voice steadying, "I caught him following something with his eyes more than once around the house, that was before he started hearing things in the walls. The cries of animals stuck in the chimney…I didn't discover the fever until he was so far gone…"

"You are not responsible for this Alana. Do not allow yourself to feel as though you need to take the blame." He wondered how long it would be before his Adam began revealing to Hannibal these signs, or if perhaps he already had…

He wondered what it was he had watched within his basement that night.

"I'm his fiancé! I'm supposed to be on top of this!" She berated herself, "He was working so many hours, I hardly saw him outside of work." She could have been making excuses for herself, she could have been explaining to Hannibal why it had taken her so long to see. Either way it had led to the loss of Will Graham and his gaining Adam. "I pushed him to make an appointment for a brain scan after finally convincing him after weeks to take one night off of work and stay over." She shook her head at the memory; it would have been the beginning of their fight. "He woke up to a night terror, that's when I finally noticed the fever." The hint of a scowl confirmed his suspicions of a disagreement between them. "We fought for almost an hour before I finally got the truth of how sick he really was out of him. We made an appointment the following day for the scan."

"May I ask how long ago this all happened? Did he make it to his scan?" For the look she had to answer he might as well have asked if she'd put a gun to his back.

"His scan was set for Monday. I made the appointment Friday morning." She turned her attention to the ring on her finger, modest but nice. He would have bought her a bigger diamond. "Our last conversation was a fight. I told him to call in sick and stay home. Jack said he needed him to work because people were dying." Silence fell, a sense of shame, "he went to work."

"And you offered him an ultimatum to protect him." She nodded, the movement barely there, "to stay home and get better or take a break from your relationship until he did."

"I should have been sterner. I should have forced it." She said with shaking breaths, "If I had put my foot down and told Jack no myself he would still be here." She blamed herself entirely, regretted her parting words and wishing for other endings, ones she would never see.

Alana truly was beautiful when she cried.

He wondered if Will would cry if he were to see her, or if Adam would laugh and drink her tears because she would never see William again.

OoOoO

Returning to an empty home had never been any reason for concern for Hannibal in the past; he welcomed his solitude, the killer having a deep enjoyment for his privacy. However when he returned home to find his bed cool and the body that should have been warming it during his absence missing he couldn't' help the touch of concern that shifted through him at the prospect of Will's return.

If this was simply another of Adam's wonderings, the man refusing to remain where Hannibal left him for any amount of time, then he was would be forced to buy a tracker and sew it under his skin. He wouldn't want to lose his stray because he decided to go wondering would he?

Leaving the bedroom he checked the bathroom, study, library and kitchen before moving toward the only room in the house his darling had shown any real interest. His worry dissipated when he opened the door to find the lights. A sense of excitement filled him when the thick scent of copper touched his olfactory.

He made the decent into the basement on silent feet, taking each step with quiet pursuit as he made his way to the bottom, walking the short distance from the stairs to the fridges. He found his Angel standing like a god at its center.

"Beautiful," he breathed the word, lost almost entirely to the wonderment that stood before him. Adam slowly turned to face him, a gentle smile curving the bow of his lips. He was as he had been when they'd met, naked but for the veil of blood that clothed him, his skin illuminated to a rose gold from the heat of fever and the glow of artificial lights that hung overhead.

"I wanted to surprise you." He turned back to the man held suspended by a meat hook through his shoulder, its point pushing through the flesh beneath his clavicle to keep him mounted as fine lengths of fishing wire bound his wrists and ankles.

"Surprise me?" he glanced to the table he had only taken his sweet Adam upon the night before, noting the anatomy book laid open and wrapped in cellophane, tiny beads of crimson dotting its page.

He watched him as he carefully slipped the length of a knife between muscle and skin, sliding its blade with a certain amount of expertise Hannibal now knew came from skinning small game and filleting fishing, letting the blade carefully separate the skin from fat before laying it to the side, taking the next section of flesh in hand to pull the sheet away, revealing lean muscles that had once been used for running and would now be used for a roast.

The man would have screamed if he didn't have dog ball duck taped in his mouth.

"You look exquisite." He ran his fingers from should to waist, feeling the slip of blood beneath his fingers and heated flesh of a man now known to be sick warm his hands. "Would you mind if I watched?" He wanted to, needed to witness his Angel's work, the carving of meat before him racing his pulse.

Another sheet of flesh pulled free, his Angel looking back at him with a sultry smile as he offered up the knife for a turn. "Would you like to select dinner first?" His grin was nothing but friendly as he turned his eyes back up to the dying man. "I figured you were going to make me chicken soup, but I'd rather have him."

Taking the knife in hand he pushed the blade through the half skinned man's throat, leaving the metal punched through his trachea to let him slowly suffocate and drown on his own fluids.

There was a time and place for everything, and in the moment it was neither the time nor the place for killing.

Adam barely had a moment for his mind to form the question of 'why?' before he found himself bend over the tables side, the same metal slab he'd been fucked against only the night before cold against his belly as a hot mouth bit into the flesh of his shoulder, the drawer flying open to produce a jar of medical lube from inside. "You are siren," he breathed against fevered skin, broad tongue drinking in the blood drawn from the apex of his shoulder, Adam was laughing beneath him, a breathless sound as he took three fingers into his body at once, "made to lure me with your temptation."

"If I'm a siren then you are the fisherman who pulled me onto his boat, taken me away from my ocean to keep in a fish tank in his home with him forever," he gasped as fingers brushed his pleasure buried deep inside, "Drawn to me, but immune to me." He turned to him with shuttering breaths, watching him over his shoulder as drips of blood soaked into Hannibal borrowed, once pristine, shirt and a hand made quick work to push brushed wool and cotton from free his swelling cock. "To kill you would be to kill myself."

"Perhaps we are the scorpion and the frog," The ripper and the profiler.

He moaned, pressing the engorged flesh into the tight heat of his Adam, making the younger man arch back against him with a needy cry. "I won't sting you," he breathed the words in a promise "we're both scorpions and we're lovers."

Seated to the hilt he pressed into Adam until he heard him groan, the table biting into his legs as he pushed his Angel to take all of him that he could. "Both monsters," he smiled, almost wishing he could meet Will if only to watch the profiler fall apart and break before him, crumble to the release of Adam.

"With no equal," Adam finished for him breathless, pressing back onto the heavy cock that filled him, eager for more.

Hannibal wouldn't leave him wanting for long, forcing a cry from his lips with a sudden snap of hips, the unexpected thrust immediately followed by another and another, bringing his Angel to ragged screams of pleasure as his climax was brought upon him all too fast, "Ha-Hannibal!" He cried for him like a god, gripping the table to press back and great each powerful thrust with open need.

It was as though they had been made for each other, brought together by fate and kept there by disease. Oh how Alana would weep for him in the coming months, Jack would destroy himself for the loss of another agent he'd been foolish enough to allow so close to death and Hannibal would relish every moment of it, enjoy the show with a front row seat for the viewing, witnessing their destruction as he built Adam into the perfect mate, the perfect killer and wiped his mind of all thing Will Graham until nothing was left of the hermit profiler.

Another powerful thrust buried his cock to the root, his Adam clutching the table in a white knuckled grip as he reached his climax with one last brutal thrust, chocking the swollen sex within him to force Hannibal's end as the killer had forced his own.

Panting beneath him in a mess of cum and blood he looked to the killer who'd rode him over his shoulder, stormy ocean eyes hooded and blown with lust and want, kiss swollen lips parted with heated breath. Adam was the personification of debauchery itself, a representation of sin.

He would never let him go.

If it meant keeping him strapped to a bed and sedated for years as he slowly worked the profiler free from his mind to keep his Adam with him forever he would.

But Will Graham would never see the light of day again.

OoOoO

TBC

End Note - Thanks to everyone for reading, favorite adding and commenting on this story, it really means the world to me, thank you all~3


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